


Let The Shadows Fall Behind You

by romangold



Category: PewDiePie (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Comedy, Halloween, Haunted Houses, No Romance, Not Septiplier, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romangold/pseuds/romangold
Summary: Mark, Felix, and Jack are amateur ghost hunters who have decided to stay overnight in an infamous haunted mansion, abandoned years ago and known for the numerous deaths that have occurred inside of it. Too bad our fearless leaders are huge chickens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _When you think your toys have gone berserk, and it's an illusion you cannot shirk...you hear laughter cracking through the walls...it sends you spinning...you have no choice..._

"Wait...we're _allowed_ to be in here, right?"

"Why are you asking that _now_?"

"It didn't occur to me until now!"

Mark rolled his eyes. _So much for professionals_. He snapped his head over his shoulder to shush his two teammates. "Would you guys be quiet? We're already inside!"

Alright, so, _ameteur_ professionals.

Mark turned back around to take another step into the ancient abandoned mansion. He, Felix, and Jack had been friends for a long time, and had formed a strong bond. Moreover, their shared affinity for the supernatural had lead to the trio forming a tight team of enthusiastic paranormal investigators. Ameteur, maybe, but determined nonetheless. And with a growing online community behind them.

Their target on the chilly October night was your typical haunted mansion situation. Houses were notoriously haunted, and any chance they got to investigate was thrilling. Mark felt the usual rush of confidence overcome him that always did with a new adventure.

And then there was a communal shock that jolted through the trio when the door slammed shut with a dead clap.

Mark spun on his heel to glare behind him. " _Jack_!" he scolded in a whisper so sharp it tore through the silence like sheet lightning. Felix copied the leader, narrowing his eyes and shifting directions to glare at the last member to enter the old mansion.

"It wasn't me!" Jack hissed, voice and body language frantic. His flashlight oscillated wildly in his hand, lighting up random parts of the ceiling and nearly tumbling to the dust blanket beneath their feet. "It closed on its own, I swear!"

The three men glanced around the grand foyer with suspicion in their eyes, but they squared their shoulders with as much determination as they could. Turning away from the door, the leader took out his night-vision camera.

"You all got your walkie-talkies?" Mark asked without taking his eyes off of the cobwebs draping from the chandelier and bannisters.

Two voices murmured "check" into the darkness.

"Alright, then," the American breathed, muscles tensing as he spoke. "Let's go find some ghosts." He readied himself to search the house. Their night of paranormal investigation had begun.

"Or- or just one ghost," Felix added.

His friends turned their attention solely on their teammate, shoulder slumped in exasperation.

" _Yes_ ," Mark said in a drawled-out tone,"that was _implied_. You didn't have to _say_ it."

Felix shrugged; he wore a goofy smirk. "Well, I mean...I didn't want anyone to get confused."

"Who would be confused by that?" the leader whisper-shouted. "There's only three of us!"

"Jack's kinda slow sometimes." Felix reached behind him to pat the youngest on the head. "I just wanted to make sure he was on track." His hand was smacked away by his miffed friend.

"Fuck off!" the Irishman derided. "I'm the one holding everyone's precious snacks, don't forget. And if there's anyone who's slow around-"

"Alright, alright!" Mark interrupted for a second time. "From now on, just leave the witty comments to me, okay, Felix?" He took a moment to glance between his two friends. "Both of you, actually, just to be safe." Jack bristled again, but didn't speak.

Mark motioned to Felix; the second man in line opened his own camera and began walking forward in earnest, pulling the microphone from his backpack to connect to the camera. Jack took the microphone from him to hold out, dividing up the work evenly. Felix nodded to Mark.

The leader had replaced his camera with his cassette recorder. Mark had made it his own job to summarize the situation of each ghost hunt, from the overall objective, to setting, to each individual room they set foot in.

"Night One in the Connelly Mansion," Mark said. He slowed his footsteps so that Felix could get a better visual sweep of the foyer. "It's rumored that the original founders, immigrants from Ireland, all died on the property one by one in the early 1800s."

Felix snickered. "Better watch out, Jack," he teased, wiggling a finger into his friend's side. The Irishman let out a squeak and wiggled away, but not without a pointed glower.

"Some say that the mansion is still haunted by images of the dead founders, or by the spectres of the founders themselves," the leader continued on. "However, in addition to these claims, we believe that there was an original ghost or vengeful poltergeist that killed all of the immigrants after they built the mansion. We're here to observe any goings-on that could indicate any supernatural activity within the mansion itself, as well as anything that can support both the local claims and our own theories."

There was a snort from behind him. " _Goings-on_?" Felix mocked. "Nice vocabulary, Edgar Allan Poe."

Mark glowered. "Shut up, Mr. 'Help-Me-A-Possessed-Mouse-Crawled-Up-My-Shirt'."

Jack snickered. "That one's still my favorite!"

They continued moving forward, but not without further embarrassed grumbling from the teammate in the middle.

The trio made it to the bottom of the winding staircase without any indication of other inhabitants. The only other room on the ground floor was the kitchen, but it was sealed up tight due to serious health hazards. All three kept alert; each one was more anxious than they'd like to admit.

"Time to split up," Mark announced. "Make sure everything is on and recording. This place has three floors in addition to this one, so we can each search one for ourselves. I'll search the second floor, Jack the third floor, and Felix the fourth floor."

The trio fished their cameras, microphones, and EMF detectors from their backpacks. They kept their walkie-talkies on their utility belts, but turned them on, so that anything one person said could be heard by the other two, to keep their hands free in case something happened. The other necessities included a first-aid kit for each of them, phone chargers, jackets, and a bottle of water each. Jack held any and all snacks in his own bag.

"All ready?" Mark asked. His teammates gave firm nods, and they all smiled in excitement.

"Then let's see what we can find!"

* * *

Felix wasn't sure he'd trust the staircase enough to get him all the way down from the fourth floor. He barely trusted the creaking wood beneath him not to give on his way up and let him fall to his death- or at least to certain injury.

There were only a few rooms on the top floor. He creaked open the door to the first room he reached, camera filming and microphone sticking out of his backpack to pick up both his voice and any noises that could indicate paranormal activity.

The room itself looked like a study. A large table strewn with old books faced the singular window, and a graying fireplace sat on the left side of the room, facing a bookshelf to his right. A globe and telescope stood around, collecting dust like the rest. The window itself had several small holes in it, no doubt from dumb kids throwing rocks throughout the years, letting the cold from outside seep in.

"I just want to let all of the ghosts in here know that I do not taste good at all," Felix said to the empty room. "Mark tastes way better. He's got more meat on him, anyway. Also, I'd love to hang out sometime. You can hit me up whenever you're free."

There wasn't an answer, unfortunately, except for the sound of the trees bearing the beating of the harsh wind.

His walkie-talkie crackled, further disturbing the silence of the abandoned room. "Felix, there is such a thing as taking your job seriously," Jack's voice joked.

"It was worth a shot!" Felix argued with a laugh.

"Excuse me," Mark spoke up from the walkie-talkie,"but did you just tell the ghosts to _eat_ me? I thought we agreed that Jack would be bait!"

"You agreed on _what_?"

Felix cut in. "Uhhh, nothing! Nothing at all, Jack. Why don't we get back to searching now?"

It was always in these moments that Felix found himself hoping for something really juicy, but also relieved whenever there wasn't anything to be found. All the old ghost stories about trespassers being hanged, gutted, driven crazy, seemed just a bit more real in a place like this, where reality was altered in the slightest fashion.

The humorous situation was turned on its head in the matter of seconds by a sudden jolt from behind Felix. He jumped half an inch in the air and spun on his heels to face whatever could have manifested in the old house.

There wasn't anything striking to see: The corner of the room, next to the door, was filled with nothing but a portrait too dusty and peeled to make out anymore, and a large vase on a marble pedestal, obviously meant only for display.

The shaking marble pedestal.

Felix almost gasped. The pedestal and the vase wobbled for a few terrible seconds before evening out and standing as still as it had when he had first entered the study.

With his handheld EMF detector held out warily towards the suspicious objects, Felix spoke so that his friends could hear him.

"Hey guys...remind me how possible it is for a ghost to pick up something and chuck it at my head?"

There was a short pause before the walkie-talkie at his belt crackled. 

"It's pretty unlikely," Mark answered. "They can move things, sometimes, but I doubt they could throw anything very hard, or at all, to be honest. If we had a poltergeist on our hands, then yes, definitely-" Felix cringed at this- "but I'm pretty sure they would have made themselves known by now. We wouldn't have made it this far into the mansion."

"Well, something definitely moved in here." Nothing showing up on the EMF detector, but there was no denying that something out of the ordinary had occurred.

"Wait, really?" Jack piped up as soon as Felix had stopped talking.

"Yeah, something just- just jostled this thing behind me-!" Felix started to say before the door creaked and slammed closed.

"What was that?" Jack asked; he was probably able to hear the sudden bang from one floor below, in the house that had stood silent for decades.

"Oh, god...the door just closed on its own," Felix responded, sweeping the door with the handheld device before reaching forward and jiggling on the knob frantically.

"Are you stuck?" Mark's voice held mixed emotions, both positive and negative that were easily distinguishable even through the old walkie-talkies. "Do you need us to come up there?"

But the doorknob gave way immediately, and the old wood barely stuck to the frame. The door opened. Felix let out a sigh.

"No," he told the two,"it's not locked. It just closed suddenly."

"Alright," Mark said. "Be careful, okay? We're all on different floors, so we can't get to each other immediately. But if you think something's following you, don't be afraid to try and interact. That's what we're here for, anyway."

"Who would've thought that something likes Felix?" Jack said on his line.

Felix narrowed his eyes down at the walkie-talkie playfully. "Looks like I'm getting more action than you on this floor, at least."

"Mouse up the shirt, Felix."

Mark's laughter carried up from the first floor. "I'm sorry, that's always gonna be funny."

"Oh, shut up, Jack McLoudGuy," Felix griped with a smile he couldn't wipe away. But his friends were too busy laughing at the past predicament, so he just rolled his eyes and moved down the hallway to the next room.

* * *

Jack chuckled as he moved from the third-floor bathroom to the room next to it. It had been _pretty_ funny, even if Felix didn't think so. Anyone would laugh if they had found someone squealing like a pig with a rodent under their sweater, more than positive that it was "possessed".

The bedroom he walked into was eerie, and made his hair stand on end. There was a bed on one side, partially hidden by sheer white curtains surrounding it; a dresser with a mirror stood opposite with a glass pitcher sparkling in the shine of his flashlight, as well as that of the full moon that glared through the window.

Little else occupied the room: Several books in stacks of threes and fours stood at random places around the bed; a wooden rocking horse, red paint faded and peeling, sat lonely on the other side of the room; a grayed painting of what looked like a ballerina adorned the wall beside the mirror.

Jack moved up to the mirror to wipe away some dust; thankfully, nothing stared at him in the reflection to give him a heart attack, like in all those cheesy movies.

"I think I found a kid's bedroom," he reported. "We've never even had the chance to encounter a younger spirit before, have we?"

"No, I don't think so," Felix said. His voice cut out a bit over the walkie-talkie.

"There's no report of any children dying in this house," Mark added. "Besides, I think it would've made itself known by now. Child ghosts are attention-seekers."

"Those egotistical bastards," Felix joked; the three of them all chuckled.

"Well, there was definitely at least one child in here at some point," Jack pointed out. "I wonder if there-"

"Wait!" Felix cut him off. "Do you guys hear that? Is that-?"

The trio all silenced themselves, too filled with sudden anxiety to even move, in case the old floors covered any sounds that could link them to paranormal activity.

But that was exactly what they heard: The creak of the stairs as someone moved from one floor to another.

"Who left their floor?" Mark demanded.

Jack didn't answer at first, gaze on the open door of the bedroom he was in. The footsteps were on the staircase between the fourth and third floors. And descending.

"Felix, are you coming down to join me?" Jack asked. The stale air turned chilly as he broke out in a cold sweat.

After a horrible moment, Felix answered,"No! I still have, like, six more rooms to look through!"

The creaking continued, pausing when they reached the third floor. Jack's floor.

And then the mansion was silent again.

"Okay, whatever that was, I elect Felix to go check it out," Jack said.

"I concur," Mark agreed.

"Aw, man," Felix grunted before chuckling. "Fuck you guys!" Before long, Jack could hear his friend's footsteps moving gingerly down the stairs.

Jack turned his attention back to the abandoned room. He noticed now that several of the book piles held not just dust, but old toys on top of them as well. Wooden tops, rusting toy automobiles, and stuffed animals, as big as his hand, that were stiff and tearing at the seams.

A sudden movement came from the bed.

Jack looked to his right to find that despite the closed window and solid walls keeping out the autumn wind, the material of the curtains fluttered side to side before coming back to its initial resting position.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but his curiosity was stronger than any neurotic need to make sure he wasn't truly alone.

He stepped forward. The curtains were sheer, but no less smothered in dust than everything else. There were only shadows and shapes to make out from behind it. But shadows and shapes were only blankets and pillows when the curtains were pulled back, right?

The brittle moments of anticipation stretched out into years before Jack finally drew away the curtains of the bed.

* * *

Mark knocked on the wall of the dining room, wondering if the house had been built with any trap doors or false fireplaces. He coughed when dust flew forward; he cleaned his glasses before speaking into his recorder.

"I haven't been able to find any trap doors or priest holes. If the people who used to live here were murdered, there might have been a secret room or basement that could have been used to hide tools, disguises, evidence, or even bodies. So far, though...nothing." After running a hand through his hair, he wiped away the dust from the suspicious-looking part of the wall and continued with his search.

"Well, that's disappointing," Felix's voice came from the walkie-talkie.

"What did you find?" Mark asked.

"Not a thing. I scanned each step twice, and checked it for ectoplasm and everything."

"Huh," Mark said. "Maybe this one just wants to check us out before it shows itself."

Felix added,"If it wants to show itself at all."

That certainly was a good point, but Mark wouldn't let that stop him from searching. "Well, the one thing we know for certain is that there's definitely somebody here that hasn't crossed over. We'll find them eventually."

"As long as whoever, or whatever, it is doesn't-" Felix started to joke, but a huge thud from one of the floors above Mark interrupted him. There was the distinct sound of glass shattering, a heavy thump, and then a door slammed shut with such ferocity that it could have caused an avalanche of dust.

"What the fuck was that?" Mark cried.

"I don't know, it came from Jack's floor."

Mark unclipped his walkie-talkie and spoke directly into it. "Jack," he said, attempting to keep his voice calm and level,"are you alright? What happened up there?"

Not even static answered him.

"I'm going to check it out," Felix said.

"Right behind you," the American assured. In a brisk walk, he shoved the doors to the dining room aside and made his way up the stairs to meet Felix halfway.

Mark felt a chill crawl up his back with each step he ascended, wondering if the spectre felt threatened, wanted to be left alone. They hadn't thought much into a scenario like that, too wound up with the anticipation of a real haunted mansion.

It looked like they were right about it being haunted.

But by _what_?

When he reached the top of the stairs, Felix waved him down from where he was crouching at the end of the corridor.

Mark could only let out waves of relief when he reached the scene of the incident. The hallway was unscathed (despite the dead echo of the door slam that still rang in their ears), as was Jack, who sat leaning against the railing. Even in the dusky lighting, and even before his flashlight could outline the two, Mark could see his friend's blue eyes blown wide, his uneven breathing, Felix's hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" Mark asked, kneeling down beside the frightened men, mirroring Felix's position. He felt himself square his shoulders, glancing at the closed bedroom door the Irishman had come through.

Jack turned to look at Mark, leaning forward for emphasis. He opened his mouth, but paused, as if he had changed his mind, but, ultimately, he spoke.

"There’s something _in_ there."

The words hit all three of them hard, like a tremor of electricity had hit them. Mark wondered if his flashlight might crumple beneath his anxious fingers squeezing into it like a lifeline.

"Looks like there might be a young spirit, after all," he speculated.

“Whatever it is, it’s angry,” Jack said. He brought trembling fingers up to brush across his cheek. “It flew at me from the bed and attacked me.” Sure enough, Felix’s flashlight illuminated three long, thin, scratch marks that were inflamed in an angry pink along his skin. “It knocked me back into the dresser before I ran out.”

“This is more contact than most professionals ever have!” Felix exclaimed.

Mark stood. "I'll check it out." His own declaration weakened his knees, but before he could let them give out, he moved forward and opened the door.

It creaked like a discarded music box, too rusty to play music after so many years. He stepped inside, keeping the door half-open. Mark pulled out his cassette recorder and held it so close to his mouth that his lips ghosted over it. When he spoke, it was in a whisper.

"I'm entering a room on the second floor. Most certainly one that a kid used to live in, but for the majority of our search there's been no sign of any child spectres." He stepped on something by accident just then, interrupting himself; when he turned his flashlight to the floor, he found his foot covering a book. Shining the light elsewhere showed dozens of books around the room. Some were scattered individually, while others were in short piles.

"Jack came out of this room so terrified he could barely speak. According to him...something attacked him. My theory is that it's whoever's haunting this mansion."

A rocking horse sat smiling on the other side of the room. To a child, it must have been charming, like an adventurous steed to ride off into the sunset on. In the dark, with his friend previously attacked, it felt like a threat. Watching him.

An empty water pitcher made of glass lay on the floor, dashed to shards against the old wood. He pushed them aside with his shoe, letting them clink against each other until they rested under the dresser.

Just next to where the pitcher had shattered was Jack’s walkie-talkie; it must have fallen from his belt after he hit the dresser. Mark picked it up and placed it in the side pocket of his backpack before turning to the bed.

It stood still, a sheer white curtain hiding anything behind it from clear view on all but one side, where Jack had pulled it back to see what was there. He hadn’t even taken a step forward, though, when there was a loud clatter.

A wooden top that had been perched on one of the book piles clunked to the floor and rolled itself over to Mark’s shoe. He gasped and moved back, but any further movement was overpowered by a yell from the hallway.

“Mark, get your ass out here!”

The de facto leader slipped over the dusty floors as he rushed out of the room, in a cold sweat by the time he reached his two friends. Both men were now standing, though they looked like it would have been better if they weren’t: All color was drawn from their cheeks, and their eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Felix's gaze was flickering between Mark and the open door behind him, while Jack’s attention was focused somewhere down the hallway.

“What?” Mark demanded. “Are you guys alright?”

“Us? What about you?” Felix cried.

Mark shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“We thought you might’ve been attacked, too,” Felix said. “Something just ran out of that room!”

“I think it went down the stairs,” Jack added. “It was like...a small shadow. Maybe a kid _did_ die here, after all.”

There was a crash from downstairs- it sounded like pots, pans, clattering on the floor. But there was no one else in the house who could have dropped them, or even gotten into the sealed-off kitchen in the first place, where the only pots in the entire house were kept.

No one _alive_ , that is.

* * *

With an old hammer so rusted it could have been painted red, Jack smashed the rubbery padlock into pieces.

The three explorers tore away the yellow tape that quarantined the kitchen from the rest of the world, unprepared to enter but willing to do it, anyway.

They opened the door just a crack, slipping through one by one on shaky legs like mice on the prowl before shutting it behind them with certainty. Hopefully whatever- whoever- was in the kitchen hadn't noticed them, or at least didn't feel threatened by them.

After a few long moments of silky white clouds of breath released in trembling succession, in and out, Felix was the one brave enough to click on his flashlight. It flickered once before working as it was supposed to. He let the light move around the room, illuminating the cupboards and tables and drawers, the oven and porcelain sink, the pots hanging from the racks.

Two more clicks added the rest of the team’s flashlights to the pitch-black room. It was obviously made for many people, servants for the house's owner, to work in at once, with the wide sink and long table, the multiple kinds of the same knives and bowls.

Felix’s flashlight fell on the floor by the table- a pot lay on its side, next to a metal colander.

“This is one strong ghost,” Jack whispered. “How is it moving things so easily?”

Mark jerked and swept his flashlight over to the far corner of the room. “What was that?” he hissed.

“What?” Felix copied him, turning his light to illuminate the same place. “What happened?”

“I thought I saw...I thought I saw something _move_.”

A clatter in front of Jack caught their attention, instead. By the time their lights had reached the disturbance, whatever had caused it was gone.

The colander, however, was spinning on its side.

“What if it’s...trying to warn us?” Jack suggested.

“About what?” Mark breathed. “What’s the threat?”

A jar slid from the top of the old freezer and exploded into porcelain shrapnel. Moldy cookies stained the inside of the shards and spilled out over the floor like earth flung up from the force of it.

“Stop!” Mark called out into the kitchen, taking a step forward with such gusto that he could have been moving in front of a tank. “We don’t mean any harm! Let us communicate!”

A hideous yowl filled the air, like a high-pitched fire alarm. The rack of pots shuddered and swung, sending two clattering to the floor; one hit a drawer, shaking the silverware inside before hitting the floor with a solid crack. Mark flinched when the other one landed at his feet, moving back to bump shoulders with Felix.

“I don’t think there _is_ anything else,” Jack realized out loud. His eyes met those of his teammates. “ _It’s_ the threat! It wants us out, it’s telling us to leave!”

There was that shadow again, leaping in front of the beams from their flashlights before disappearing again in a swift, silent rush.

“I say we take the hint!” Felix cried.

Mark didn’t think he could bear to leave behind a case like this, not when they were making real contact- but then a cupboard door opened, and plates began to shatter down like projectiles, and the sound was unbearable, and it hurt to watch the old mansion get ruined because of them. The kitchen was a war zone, the floor a bomb hazard. It wasn't safe.

Mark swallowed his pride and said,“Agreed!” He turned, swung the door open, and flung himself through. In a matter of seconds, he was scrambling across the foyer, though it seemed to get longer the more frantically he ran for the exit- everything was a blur except for the front door, which could never get closer. He sensed heavy footsteps sprinting just behind him, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Jack following his lead.

There was the door, they were hallway there, they were _safe_ -

A shadow to Mark’s right moved, as if it had detached itself from its owner and come to life.

Not _a_ shadow. _The_ shadow.

Mark gasped and opened his mouth, but before he could even process reacting, Jack cried out and was sent toppling to the floor.

The shadow leapt back into obscurity somewhere by the coat rack. The American slid to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust around his sneakers before sinking to his knees beside his friend.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, ignoring the sudden crack in his voice.

Jack’s face was screwed up, and he bit his bottom lip as if to stop himself from screaming. “Fuck!” he cried. “My ankle!”

“Try and walk,” his friend insisted, heaving himself and the other man to their feet; when Jack put his weight on his left leg, it crumpled beneath him. He would have been on his knees if Mark hadn’t caught him, slinging Jack’s arm over his own shoulder and holding him upright.

The same high-pitched caterwaul filled the air. Mark’s heart seized up in his chest, beating like the bass drum of a frantic musician’s very last performance. The coat rack creaked, rocked, and fell to the floor. Both men let out frightened screeches, clutching at each other to use as human shields, if necessary.

“Let’s get the hell outta dodge!” Jack squawked. In one rapid sweep of movement, Mark had scooped him up and was carrying him towards the front door in a frenetic scurry, unwilling to stick around and see what would happen next.

“Felix!” Mark cried over his shoulder as he jostled the other man in his arms, watching the last team member bound towards them at breakneck speed. “Felix, hurry up! Let’s move!”

Felix sprinted to them as if friction had never existed and opened the door for them all to run through. “Go, go, go!” he shouted. In record time, they were dashing down the street to safety, the door left ajar behind them.

A pair of eyes watched them go, emerald green and surrounded by a black shadow. Their owner tipped their head to the side in contemplation as the three men fled out of sight down the sidewalk.

The figure stepped into the moonlight cast through the open door, ears twitching in curiosity. They were alone, now, just as they had been for many years in the old Connelly mansion. The dusty old place would always be their home. Perhaps, one day, those nice young men would move in, spruce up the place.

Perhaps.

Licking down the tousled fur on its shoulder, the black cat wondered when their new friends would return to the old mansion to play with them again.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween, everybody! ^V^


End file.
